


Unicorn Turds (part 13)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Unicorn Turds [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana Lopez has been crushing on Brittany Pierce since she was a first year.  But Brittany is the most popular girl in school and a star quidditch player, and Santana is practically invisible…  Harry Potter AU Brittana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unicorn Turds (part 13)

**Author's Note:**

> i haven’t written in what feels like forever. shaking off the rust and giving y’all feels because reasons. thanks to everyone who is reading for the continued support and general cheerleading. i’ve finally figured out where i want the fic to go, so my headcanons are nonstop in any and all directions. so much good stuff to come.

“We dated a few months,” Brittany explains, lowering herself awkwardly back onto the edge of the pool and losing her feet back under the water. “Me and Johnny. It didn’t end well, obviously.” She motions flippantly after his retreating figure, refusing to look at Santana and grimacing. Really, it’s no secret Brittany’s had plenty of love interests over the years, both boys and girls. The Hogwart’s rumor mill is constantly churning out word of her latest escapade, some true and others wildly fictitious.

“You don’t have to explain,” Santana offers, taking the place adjacent to Brittany. She sits just close enough so the cuffs of their shorts are touching, one millimeter of open air between the bare skin of their thighs. Santana’s fingers twitch to touch Brittany, like moths to a flame. She sits on her hands instead.

“I know, but I want to,” Brittany hesitates, picking a loose thread on the hem of her t-shirt. “I know what people say about me around school; long list of jilted ex-lovers, serial player…” She pulls hard enough and the entire thread unravels, but doesn’t break. “Damnit,” she mumbles, frustrated.

“Here, let me.” Santana pinches the thread between her fingernails and cuts it before the entire stitch could come loose. She lets her fingers linger on the heather gray cotton, the t-shirt so soft and well-worn against her skin.

“I’m sorry.”

Brittany’s looking at her now, head cocked slightly off to one side, an adorable half-smirk teasing up the corner of her lips. “For what? I’m the one who’s sorry. And embarrassed. He’s never been able to control his temper when he’s been drinking. I should have known better than to even come here tonight, but,” she trails off, a blush creeping up her neck.

“But what?”

“I was hoping to see you,” Brittany whispers, slipping her free hand into Santana’s. When Brittany’s thumb scratches softly at Santana’s palm, she tries hard not to pass out. Her whole hand feels engulfed in flames, nerve endings she didn’t even know were there burning and crackling against Brittany’s fingers.

“What about you?”

How is she supposed to hold a conversation with Brittany’s hand pressed into hers? She can barely remember her own name. “What about me?” she asks, distractedly, tracing imaginary patterns between the freckles dotting the skin of Brittany’s thumb and wondering how it would feel pressed against her lips.

“Any jealous exes I should be worried about?”

Santana is too shocked to even laugh at how silly the question is. She thinks back to her first and only kiss, Bradley, the boy from down the street who Santana used to dig for garden gnomes with. She remembers how chaste and awkward it was behind his parent’s shed when they were eleven, how chapped and dry his lips felt pressed into hers. How it felt no different than her mom kissing a skinned knee or her cheek before bed. How it didn’t feel like anything special at all.

“Me? Oh, no,” Santana stammers, her face hot and heartbeat hammering. “I’ve never. I mean, I don’t-” She’s so embarrassed she has to look away. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Well then people aren’t paying close enough attention,” Brittany whispers, leaning forward to nudge her nose into Santana’s cheek until she turns back, their faces so close they’ve both almost gone cross-eyed. Brittany’s eyes are the prettiest shade of blue.

“I see you, Santana.” Brittany untangles their fingers and lays a cool palm along Santana’s burning cheek.

“What do you see?” Santana asks, the whisper catching in her throat.

“Everything.”

But before Brittany has the chance to close the last inch between them, an owl swoops and drops a scarlet envelope that hits Santana square in the forehead. She recognizes the handwriting immediately. Her mother’s sent a howler.

_____

Santana’s read about Time-Turners. Tiny hourglasses housed in a necklace with an hour-reversal charm that let you go back in time, at least for a few hours. They’re under strict lock and key at the Ministry of Magic, but Santana wishes more than anything she had one tonight as she throws a handful of Floo powder into the Evans’s fireplace and steps into green flames. She’s mortified as she locks eyes with Brittany across the room but before she can even wave a half-hearted goodbye, there’s the familiar hooking tug behind her belly button and the room disappears.

_____

Finn, Rachel and Santana’s parents must have agreed on a punishment before they returned from the party because all three are grounded for the rest of the summer holiday. It probably didn’t help their cases that Finn fell out of the fireplace at the Berry’s with Rachel still passed out drunk in his arms or that Santana got the spins and threw up both on her father’s shoes and the Berry’s very expensive Persian rug.

_____

Santana counts thirteen times that her parents use the word “disappointed” from the time they get home to the end of their hour-long lecture on responsibility and trust. Santana’s never been in serious trouble before with her parents like this, and certainly never been grounded, so the whole experience feels more nagging and petulant than anything else. It’s not like she doesn’t understand the concept of betraying her parents’ trust, but she knew they would have never have let her go to the party if she actually asked. Not to mention she hasn’t exactly told her parents that she finds girls much prettier and more attractive than boys, or that she only went to this party for one girl in particular.

By the time Santana climbs the stairs and makes it to her bedroom, it’s nearly dawn. She falls into her bed fully clothed on and closes her eyes, but there’s an immediate rapt tapping at the window. A large brown owl with a pale yellow belly and amber eyes like saucers stares at her somewhat indignantly from the other side of the glass. Can owls look annoyed? Because this one definitely does. Santana wonders how long it’s been perched and waiting for her, and feeds it the abandoned stale crust of the sandwich she ate for lunch. The fluffy owl hoots in appreciation and sticks it’s leg out so Santana can more easily remove the scroll of parchment tied there.

_Santana,_

_Hopefully Atticus found your house in time, I wanted you to read this before you went to sleep so I promised him extra ear-scratches and piles of owl treats if he can catch you before bed. I also hope he picked the right window? I’m not sure how owls know that kind of stuff, but my guy hasn’t steered me wrong yet so I’m hoping for the best._

_I’m sorry your parents found out about the party and that you’re probably in a heaping mess of trouble right now, but I sure was happy to see you tonight and hope it’s not the last time this summer. I asked around a bit at the party to see if anyone heard the howler from our spot in the woods but no one seemed to know what I was talking about. Seems the silencing charm worked like a charm._

_Bad jokes aside, I’m thinking about you,_

_Brittany_

_PS Atticus really likes chocolate, hint hint._

Santana reads the letter three more times until she can barely contain the butterflies coursing through her. She reaches to scratch Atticus behind the ears and breaks off a small piece of the chocolate bar in the drawer of her bedside table to feed him before dipping her quill in ink and penning a response.

_Brittany,_

_Atticus is a sharp fellow and found my window without incident. He’s also extremely cute._

( _Just like his mom_ , Santana wants to write but doesn’t.)

_And thanks for saving me the embarrassment of a public howler, although you being there was mortifying enough. I didn’t even know my mother knew that many swear words._

_Anyways, after a long-winded lecture, I’m grounded for the rest of the summer._

( _But it was worth it_ , Santana wants to write, too, but doesn’t.)

_At least Atticus knows where to find me,_

_Santana_

She pauses and rereads the letter two times before adding one more sentence.

_PS I’m thinking about you, too._


End file.
